


Who Are You?

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13407999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Because he cares, right?





	Who Are You?

It’s midnight by the time Dark appears in Mark’s hotel room, smoke and fists curling in fury.

Mark is sitting on his phone, laughing at something while he eats cold noodles with his free hand. He doesn’t notice Dark until it’s too late.

“What,” Dark snarls, pinning Mark’s hands in an ice-cold grip, “are you doing?”  


Mark has the decency to look scared for all of a moment before his lips curl into a smile that makes Dark feel as if he’s looking into a mirror. “Having fun,” he shoots back, straining at Dark’s hands. “What does it look like?”

Dark releases Mark in disgust, his aura tugging at his sleeve. Something is… off. “You realize that when you do things like this, the fans panic. And when the fans panic, it affects us.” Dark tugs at his tie almost wearily, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Of course I know,” Mark scoffs, trying to salvage his knocked-over noodles. “I just don’t care.”  


Dark nearly broke right then and there, seeing Mark so flippant about the crisis that rocked the office. He and Wilford had fallen to their knees at the first wave of it, the power from the fans that wracked their bodies. What didn’t kill them made them stronger, but they were damn close to death as it was. 

Dark collects himself with the cracking of his spine, gets up to pace the length of the room, hides the blood splatters that stain the front of his suit. “How can you not care? We–” he gestures wildly, throwing his aura off his shoulders, nagging, “–are the heart and soul of your channel. You’d be nowhere without us, and you know it.”

Mark shrugs, attention wholly on his phone. “Eh.”

Dark snaps to attention, aura curling itself around Mark’s phone and flinging it out of his hands. 

“Hey! That’s–”

“ _Listen_.” Dark is suddenly towering over Mark, closing the distance between them. Blood started to drip from his eyes and nose and mouth and everywhere again, and the pain that came with it starts to spike. “We’ve been patient with you so far, _Markiplier_ , but this is too far. You–”  


“And what are you gonna do?” Mark leaned into Dark’s sneer, smirking right back. “I created you. You can’t kill me. You can do _squat_. Fuck off, why don’t you?”  


Dark starts to speak again, about to send Mark spiraling into the void, but something pushes him back.

Something bigger than him, more ancient. Stronger.

Dark staggers, blood pooling in his hands. “What are you–” he manages to bite out, choking, before Mark stands. 

“Fuck off.” Mark’s fingers curl around Dark’s throat, forcing his head up. “You look like me, and you exist because of me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re _my_ _puppet_. Get lost, until I have a _use_ for you.” And Dark is thrown across the room to hit the wall, his aura scrambling after him.   


Dark gets up slowly, face smeared with blood, a handprint still white on his neck. “Who the _hell_ –” he gasps for breath, “–are you?”

Dark looks up to see Mark– what he thought was Mark– smiling at him, blood smeared across his face. Mark takes a step forward, eyes flashing black, black like a mirror distorted by the dead of night and a hundred years in between. 

“I just want to _talk_.”  



End file.
